


Self-Pleasure as a Spectator Sport

by eliddell



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Aberrant use of plushies, Comedy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 08:36:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliddell/pseuds/eliddell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwendal's hobby gets out of hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Self-Pleasure as a Spectator Sport

**Author's Note:**

> Written many years ago for a contest on a small mailing list. The prompt was, approximately, "write the most embarassing sex moment you can think of". I can't remember whether this won or not.

It would have been so much easier if he had just slapped the man. Then there would have been a nice wedding, with lots of flowers and cute gifts and His Majesty as maid of honour . . . but that would have meant admitting he wanted a man who loved someone else. 

Still, that might have been better than this . . . this . . . 

He hadn't originally intended the knitting project to be an anatomically correct, life-sized, Gunter von Christ doll. That was probably why it looked even less like the intended subject than his creations normally did, at least from the front . . . but he hadn't been intending to look at it from the front, and from the back, the purple yarn he'd used for the hair hid most of the problems. 

But he should have noticed that the scribbles on the label of the jar might have been in the handwriting of the only person in the kingdom—possibly even the world—who could make a normally slippery substance into something horribly adhesive. He likewise blamed himself for having fallen out the open window of his office. And for not having the wit to do this at night, when there would have been fewer watchers. Unfortunately, it was broad daylight, and it looked like the entire population of the palace had gathered 'round to witness the spectacle of him stuck to—and into—a life-sized Gunter doll. There was His Majesty, and Wolfram, and a certain red-head that he was going to "oil" to the palace wall as soon as he got out of this, and Conrart, and a whole bunch of guards and servants . . . and Gunter. Of course, Gunter. 

Gwendal buried his face in the doll's hair and prayed fervently that the bush would eat him.


End file.
